


House of Memories

by nishiki



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Big Sibling Luther Hargreeves, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Diego Hargreeves is Bad at Feelings, Family Feels, Feels, Gen, Good Sibling Diego Hargreeves, Good Sibling Luther Hargreeves, Homeless Klaus Hargreeves, Homelessness, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves Needs Help, Luther Hargreeves Has a Human Body, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Luther Hargreeves, Pre-Season/Series 01, Protective Diego Hargreeves, Protective Luther Hargreeves, Protective Siblings, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Sibling Bonding, Sick Klaus Hargreeves, Sober Klaus Hargreeves, Sobriety, Soft Diego Hargreeves, Soft Luther Hargreeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 11:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24469867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishiki/pseuds/nishiki
Summary: When Diego leaves town for a couple of days, he asks his brother Luther to keep an eye out for Klaus. Meanwhile, Luther realizes that his father never really cared about any of them.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Luther Hargreeves & Reginald Hargreeves
Comments: 34
Kudos: 642





	House of Memories

The call came completely unexpected and out of the blue. It happened not very often that the house was called, to begin with, but even rarer were the times one of his siblings would call. He hadn't heard from Allison for seven years now, not since she left the house and the city to go to Hollywood and start living her dream life as an actress. Of course, he studied every article about her religiously but that was not the same thing as actually hearing from her or talking to her. When she left, she had promised to call every week. She had not called once, too wrapped up in that Hollywood glitz and glam. He wouldn't lie, realizing that Allison of all people had broken her promise towards him, had hurt like a ton of bricks had been dropped on his head. 

The last thing he had heard of Vanya was that book she had written last year. He had read it, of course, and wondered if his other siblings had too.

Diego sometimes dropped by when he thought that neither Luther nor Reginald were around. He tried avoiding everyone as much as he could and would only drop by to talk to Grace or do his laundry. He had not spoken to Diego since he left - shortly after Allison had left. He knew, however, that he had joined the police academy and had quickly been kicked out again.

And Klaus … Well, he tried not to think about Klaus too much. It wasn't because he wouldn't care. Every time he would catch himself actually thinking about Number Four, he would feel tormented by that deep sense of guilt he felt as Klaus’ brother, as Number One, as  _ the eldest  _ of the Hargreeves children, in a sense of the word. 

Klaus and he had never been particularly close but he had seen his brother start doing drugs and he had seen him spiral out of control too. He should have done something about it. He should have talked to him, should have made him see the error of his ways, or at least tried to make him stop taking drugs. Instead, he had left all of this to Diego; the worrying, the caring, the picking up the pieces because he hadn't known how to. It wasn't like their father had taught him how to properly care for each other. They had been trained to suppress their emotions, to see each other not as siblings but as soldiers. It was like Vanya had written in her book: they were family in name only. 

And, to his regret and shame he had to confess that it had been so much easier to pretend like he didn't care - not about Klaus, not about Diego, not about Vanya. Diego was so much better at this stuff anyway, right? No, he had thought as a teenager, he would probably only make things worse if he would try to get through that thick skull of Klaus’.

Here he was now, standing at the phone in the middle of the corridor, interrupted in his morning routine, and was listening to Diego’s voice that came out tinny through the phone. "So, I have to leave town for a couple of days. I have a job just outside town."

He wanted to ask what kind of job that was. He wanted to ask why Diego would call  _ him,  _ of all people, to tell something like this to. It wasn't like they would share such information with each other usually. It wasn't as if he would even notice if Diego was gone for a while. That realization stung a little. His brother could be lying dead in a ditch and he would be none the wiser. His brother could get kidnapped or killed and buried and he would never know. The same thing rang true for Klaus, of course. Maybe more so for Klaus than Diego, actually. And what kind of brother was he, if he wouldn't even notice the disappearance of any of his siblings? 

"Okay?" He replied confused. "Drive safely."

Diego let out a little huff and he could only imagine what his face must look like: his eyebrows drawn together, his forehead wrinkled in irritation, the left corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. He was probably already getting impatient with Luther again. Sometimes he was a little slower than Diego would like him to be and there had to be a deeper meaning behind this conversation or otherwise, Diego wouldn't have called him. 

"It's about"

"Klaus" Luther concluded finally. "You call because of Klaus? What's he done this time?"

"Nothing" He sounded always so defensive when talking about Number Four. Well, of course, Diego and Klaus had always been close. And still, Diego had allowed Klaus to spiral out of control like this. "As far as I know at least. I’m just calling to ask you to keep an eye out for him."

"An eye out?"

"Yes" He sighed and this time his irritation was clear. "It's the holidays - he doesn't cope well with them." Ah yes,  _ Thanksgiving _ . It wasn't like they had ever celebrated any of the normal holidays anyway. "And it's getting really cold now at night."

"So?"

For a second or two, he was greeted with thick silence before Diego spoke up again. "You are aware that our brother is living on the streets, yes?"

"Yes … I mean … I thought he was bunking with you or had friends to stay with."

"I haven't seen him for a while" Diego replied reluctantly and this time, Luther could tell right away that there was more to this than just Klaus being Klaus. "And friends? You do know Klaus, right? What kind of friends do you think he would have? He’s alone out there - at least when I’m out of town. I didn't want to take that job, actually, and go get him to stay over for a little while - but now I can't do that."

"You could still get him and let him stay while you are gone."

"Listen, Luther, he’s my brother and I love him but how stupid do you think I am? If I’d do that, I’d come back to an empty apartment."

"So you want me to play babysitter now?"

"I’m not saying that" Diego groaned. "Klaus is a big boy, he can look out for himself for the most part" He wanted to remind Diego of what he had said just mere minutes ago but Diego stopped him right away as if he would know. "Listen, all I’m asking is that you see if you can find him, make sure he’s alright and that's it. I don't ask you to take him in or shit. Just … have an eye out, okay? If nothing else, get him to a shelter or a soup kitchen." 

"I wouldn't even know where to look for him."

"I’ll drop by when I’m heading out of town and give you a list." 

※※※※※※※

Diego had kept his word. A few hours after his initial phone call, as it was already nearing noon, Diego actually did drop by to give him a list. Although he made a point of not actually meeting Luther. Instead, Grace walked in on him in the gym at one point with a ripped piece of paper in her hand. A part of him hadn't expected to actually meet Diego, another part of him was disappointed. Sure, they hadn't been close and mostly gotten into stupid fights all their lives but Diego was still his brother, he still loved him and there had been a time when they had been close. That was, however, long before they had understood the ranking system that their father had bestowed upon them. The realization of what it meant to be Number Two, had driven a wedge between Luther and Diego.

And while Diego’s ego couldn't handle the rejection that being Number Two meant, Luther had never quite understood the pain that came with being disregarded like this. He wasn't quite sure that he understood it now. 

The list that his brother had provided him with, held a number of places where Klaus could possibly be - most of which he had never even heard of. After receiving the list, he just folded it together and then put it in the pocket of his gym shorts. And there it stayed for the remainder of his training until he almost forgot about it. Just after he showered and got changed into his normal clothes, the intercom crackled.

"Number One, to my office!" 

He sighed at the sound. Surely, his father had another mission for him. They were kinda dull and pointless lately. He didn't enjoy them as much anymore as he did in his childhood. Maybe it was just because he was all alone now. He missed the teamwork - even Klaus’ stupid quips and jokes while he failed to be the lookout again and again. So, as it was expected of him, he dropped everything he was doing and left the gym to walk upstairs to his father’s office. 

The door was closed when he arrived, as per usual, so he knocked and waited for his father to call him inside. He didn't have to wait long and when he opened the door to walk in, he found the old man as he would usually find him: leaned over his journal or some other obscure document, scribbling away notes and observations while a delicate golden clock on his desk would tick away the time. 

"You wanted to see me?" He addressed his father patiently as he stepped closer and stopped precisely three feet in front of his desk, just like he did every time. 

"Yes," His father replied but did not look up at him yet. Luther knew not to talk again until his father would be done writing whatever he was writing and finally grant him attention. There had been days when he had stood and waited for ten to fifteen minutes like this. Today, however, his father was much quicker. He watched him end the sentence he was writing before he put his fountain pen away orderly and looked up at Luther. "I called you to inform you that I am leaving the country for a couple of weeks. I don't expect to be back here before the new year."

"Where are you going?"

"Egypt," Reginald replied calmly. His face never betrayed a single thought or emotion the man had. In effect, he had much more in common with a robot than Grace had. "I will partake in a very interesting and promising archaeological excursion."

As a child and teenager, he would have asked his father if he could accompany him. Now, as an adult, he knew better. So, he kept his mouth shut and nodded instead to show that he had understood.

"In the meantime, I expect you, as my Number One, to serve as the head of this household. I expect this house to be in order when I return."

"You can count on me, Sir."

"I know I can." He felt just a little bit of pride wash through him at these words. However, his father’s cold eyes still rested upon his face in an expression he could not read. He had given him his orders, yet it seemed that Luther was still not dismissed. "You talked to your brother earlier on the phone." 

He didn't even question how Reginald knew that. He never questioned how his father knew anything because if he would, he would do nothing else anymore. "Yes, I did."

"Was there any particular reason for that conversation? Has your brother finally seen the errors of his ways and wants to return to the academy?" The slight smirk on his face told Luther that Reginald very well knew that Diego had not  _ seen the errors of his ways  _ yet. Knowing Diego, he would never return to the academy. Not so much because he wouldn't want to but because his pride was standing in his way. "I must say, his work as a vigilante at night is starting to become ridiculous."

"No, he called to tell me that he’s leaving town for a few days."

"And why would that be of interest to you?" 

He bit the inside of his cheek at that. He should tell his father the truth - he probably knew anyway. He wondered if his father had bugged the phone line and had actually listened to their conversation. If he had, he already knew what the conversation had been about and if Luther would lie, it would be bad. But if Reginald didn't know about the topic of their conversation and Luther would tell him the truth, he would never allow Luther to actually do what Diego was asking of him, right?

"He asked me to keep an eye out for Klaus, actually." His father raised a brow at that. "It's … Just because the nights are getting colder now and he is concerned about Klaus safety and well-being."

"He wouldn't need to be concerned about any of this if your brother would have his life under control. He wouldn't need to be concerned about any of this if Number Two had forced Number Four to go into rehab or return him to this house years ago." His father snarled. "But I see that Number Two is still weak when it comes to Number Four. This is exactly why he will never become a proper soldier or a policeman. He is too concerned with matters of emotion and feelings. Of course, you will not go after your brother out there. Number Four is the architect of his own misfortune. Your brother decided at an early age that he would rather dull his powers and make himself useless with drugs and alcohol than actually put in the work. He has paved this path for himself, Number One. Now he has to deal with the consequences when his  _ sponsor  _ is no longer in town to enable this kind of behavior. Maybe he will return to his senses, at long last." 

"But-"

"You are dismissed. I am going to leave tonight."

※※※※※※※

It started snowing that night when Sir Reginald Hargreeves took his leave from the mansion. Luther stood by with Grace and Pogo as his father put on his coat and hat. As he turned to Luther again, a nod and a look were enough to remind him of the orders his father had given and the ban he had spoken in terms of Klaus and Diego’s wish. 

He watched him leave with a feeling that he could not quite describe sitting in the pit of his stomach. Was it relief? A part of him  _ did  _ feel relief. His father’s presence was often quite oppressing. He loved his father dearly but he couldn't deny how hard it sometimes was to breathe around the man. It was hard living under his father’s constant scrutiny now that he was alone in the house. He had never really felt this way growing up - perhaps because his father’s scrutiny had been divided by seven for the most time - now, however, it was laser-focused on Luther, as if he expected his son to act up like his siblings or disobey him in any way. 

Later that night, Luther lay awake in his bed. He had grown out of it 8 years ago but he knew that, even if he were to ask his father, he wouldn't get a new one. This one was perfectly fine, after all, wasn’t it? It served its purpose. While Reginald’s private rooms were ornate and richly decorated, his children had learned to accept the bare minimum. Sure, they had been allowed to accumulate decorations and items to fill their bedrooms with their own personalities but not by Sir Reginald’s design. 

Diego’s bed, for example, had started to creak when they were fourteen and had kept Vanya awake for almost every night since because Diego was, apparently, a messy sleeper. His own room was decorated with all the model airplanes he had crafted over the years. He still loved making them but these days, he rarely found it in himself to actually follow through with a project. The last one he had started to build, sat on his desk underneath the window that was overlooking the street. As children, he and Allison had strung a can phone across to her window in summer. 

He couldn't find rest. The house was too loud in its silence. He missed the creaking of Diego’s bed. He missed hearing dull music playing softly from Klaus’ room. He missed hearing Allison talk on the phone for hours straight right next door. He missed the sound of Vanya’s violin. He even missed the sound of Five zapping around, and of Ben yelling at Klaus from upstairs to stop stealing his stuff. The house was too quiet without them. Life, his own little world inside this bubble that was the academy, was too quiet without his siblings.

He got up from his bed and left his room to stroll out into the hallway. He found himself stopping at the door of Klaus’ room. After he had been kicked out by Reginald a few years ago, Grace had stripped the bedding off his bed but otherwise left the room untouched. Apart from the bed, the room still looked like he would come back home every second now to throw himself dramatically across the mattress and whine to Luther about his latest adventure. 

He paused in the doorway and flicked on the lights. His father had unplugged the fairy lights that Klaus had hung across the wall by his bed at one point because they had kept glowing through the nights. He felt drawn to switch them back on. He remembered finding them in one of the buildings in the back, leftover from one of the former tenants of that building before his father had purchased it -  _ before the academy had swallowed it _ . He remembered showing the string of tangled fairy lights to Klaus and how his face had lit up when they had finally managed to untangle them and plug them in safely. 

He thought about Diego’s request again. There was no way he could go against his father’s very strict orders, right? He would see it on the security footage after his return if he would. Yet, outside, the snow only got worse and Klaus was alone out there somewhere. 

He hurried back in his room to get dressed. After he had changed back into his jeans and a thick woolen sweater, he dug into his jeans’ pockets for the list only to remember that he had left the list in his gym shorts. Crap. Quickly, he put on his winter boots, grabbed his coat, another thick sweater, and a scarf in case he would find Klaus. His brother was always dressed too flimsily for the weather. He had always been like this. He could almost see him right now in a crop top and without shoes out there. Almost, Luther was amazed by these thoughts but after everything, Klaus was still his brother. His little brother who always got sick during their childhood, who never ate enough, never slept enough.

"Oh, Luther dear" His mom approached him as he was hurrying downstairs to head back to the gym. He noticed that she was already carrying his gym shorts and, for a second, fear ran through him at the thought that she had already given them a wash and ruined the list. Then, however, Grace produced a piece of paper and handed it to him. "I almost washed this list. I gathered it was important?"

"Yes!" He replied and kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Mom!"

"Are you going out? In that weather?"

"I’m going to try and find Klaus."

His mother looked at him in confusion for a second and Luther thought, for a brief moment, that she was going to tell him not to go because clearly this would go against his father’s orders. Instead, a bright smile spread across her face.

"In that case, I’m putting the kettle on, Darling." 

※※※※※※※

Diego’s list held the names of several places in downtown near the central station. He didn't know many of the places but of others, he had heard. Some of them were notorious for the junkies and prostitutes that were hanging around there on a regular basis. Some of the names were probably of nightclubs and one he recognized as an abandoned warehouse that had been in the news a few times because of drug busts during raves. 

In the end, Luther had grabbed his things and the list, took the car keys to the Rolls Royce, and headed off into town. He couldn't help but feel weird about driving into town in search of his drug-addicted, homeless brother after his father had specifically told him not to do so. There was this tiny voice in the back of his head, which sounded suspiciously quite a lot like Sir Reginald, that told him to turn his car around and go back to bed. And then there was Diego’s voice, telling him to go after Klaus, to make sure that their brother was okay - or at least still alive.

First, he went to the train station just to have a look around but he couldn't really make out anyone that could be his brother. He remembered picking Klaus up at the train station when they were fifteen. Klaus had run away to get ridiculously high after a fight with him and Reginald had thus ordered Luther to bring his brother back to the house. He would never forget how he had found his little brother sitting on the steps of the station with a bottle of cheap vodka in his hand, chatting with a guy who looked twice his age and had looked at Klaus with hungry eyes while his brother had clearly been high off his ass already.

Granted, even the junkies that were usually lingering about had tried to find shelter during what shaped-up to become a full-fledged blizzard right now. It became harder and harder to actually see anything through the flurry of snow that fell from the dark sky. By now, the snow had piled up quite impressively on the sidewalks and hardly a single soul was walking the streets. Luther was driving from one place to the next, working through Diego’s list diligently because no one in this family knew Klaus as well as Diego did, trying to find his brother but remaining unsuccessful. After almost two hours of driving around like an idiot, he only had the park left to search through. Surely, not even Klaus would be stupid enough to stay outside at the park during such bad weather, right?

He was tempted to give up and go back home already instead of going to the last location, as movement caught his eye. It was too quick to catch it at first and for a moment, he was sure that he had imagined it as he waited at a red light. He was now in the more shady part of downtown, the houses were run down and littered with graffiti, he could see a drunken man cower in the entrance of a house down the street, his bottle serving as his heater in that harsh weather. This was not exactly the kind of area where one would want to drive around in a Rolls Royce but Luther was confident that he would be able to defend the car from anyone who dared to go out in such weather to steal the car. 

The movement happened again, a flash in his peripheral. The car stood and waited in line with the mouth of an alley and first, Luther was sure that it was just the snow glittering in the light of the lamppost beside him that was playing tricks on his mind but then he could see it more clearly. Three people, men, judging by their physiques, hovering around something on the ground. It took him another few seconds to realize that they were actually in the middle of attacking something or  _ someone  _ with kicks and punches. 

He should by no means get out of the car right now but his father had raised him to be a superhero and a hero was there to help others during their time of need, right? If he wouldn't be able to find Klaus, at least he would be able to help whoever it was in that alley. He quickly pulled the car over, switched into park, unbuckled his seatbelt, turned the car off, grabbed the keys, and jumped out.

The wind was bitingly cold and dug its claws into him like a wild animal as Luther hurried through the snow over to the alley. The group didn't realize that they were no longer alone. They were laughing and clearly drunk. One of them was cheering loudly as another one kept kicking the defenseless person on the ground that Luther could see now a little clearer. He watched how they then picked up the person they had attacked with little hassle. One of them was opening the dumpster in the back of the alley and his friends were dragging their now seemingly unconscious victim over to the container.

He felt a wave of righteous fury wash through him as he realized that they were about to throw another human being into that garbage container in the middle of a snowstorm. Even if only hurt and not killed, that person would not have a chance to get out of there alone. Chances would be good that they would die in that dumpster if no one would find them in time.

"Hey!" Luther yelled and had success in startling all three of the men with his sudden appearance. The one that opened the dumpster bolted right away, whereas his two friends quickly dropped their victim to follow him. He had expected a fight but those three just darted as if they were either intimidated by his size or thought that he was a cop. 

Luther started running towards them, set on catching them, and handing them to the police but as he reached the person on the ground, he stopped instead. Those assholes should be in jail for what they did, yes, but this poor guy on the ground needed help immediately. If he was faced with the choice of pursuing criminals or helping someone in pain, it seemed common sense to help - even if his father might not agree with him on that.

He cursed under his breath as he watched those three assholes run like little girls before he directed his attention back to their victim on the ground. He couldn't tell if the man was unconscious right away. He was lying on his side, his face turned away from Luther. He was thin, tall, and lanky and reminded him too much of his brother and how he looked last time Luther had seen him. A mop of curly hair hung wet from the snow and from blood on the man’s scalp, dark brunette, almost looking black right now. He was wearing leather pants, laced up on the sides up to his hips; no shoes, no jacket, no scarf, only a thin shirt that looked two sizes too small on the man. 

Suddenly, Luther was overcome with dread as realization who this poor guy might be hit him square in the face. "Klaus?" He muttered quietly, almost afraid that it really was his brother. Quickly, he shook off his fears to remind himself of what was really important right now and that was to help, no matter who this person was. 

He knelt down on the ground beside him and turned him around so he was resting on his back instead. And, there it was, his brother’s face, covered in blood and bruises right in front of him. "Klaus!" He tried again but Klaus didn't stir at the sound of his voice or even as Luther shook him by the shoulders. Luther pressed two fingers into the crook of his neck and pretended that they were not at all shaking as he did so. Memories of a mission gone wrong, of blood and screams, tried to take a hold of his mind once more. There had been nothing he could’ve done to save Ben. It had been his mistake. No one would have said this to him back then but Luther knew that they all thought it. He had messed up. He hadn't protected Ben - too focused on his father’s orders to help Ben instead. It had been more important to catch the bad guy and then Ben had died.

A weak thump answered Luther’s request as it gently nudged the fingers he was pressing against Klaus’ neck in a silent plea.  _ He was alive.  _ He was still alive, even if he was barely clinging to it right now. There was no time to assess the damage done to his little brother as Luther scooped him up. Grace could better tend to him than he could ever hope to anyway. So, he carried him back to the car, his weight barely registering as he did so. Klaus weighed too little as it was anyway. It had always been like this. Thin, sickly Klaus. In his opinion, he had overdone it a little with the heroin-chic this time. 

At the car, he was quick to deposit of Klaus on the passenger’s seat only to hurriedly put the sweater he had brought with him on his brother and wrap the scarf around Klaus’ thin neck. He buckled him in, closed the door carefully, and jogged over to the driver’s side. Not ten seconds later, Luther was speeding down the empty street and back towards the mansion. 

As he arrived and parked the car in front of the house, he noticed that the front door was already open. He could see Grace standing on the stairs, waiting with a friendly smile and not for the first time, he started wondering if she somehow knew that Klaus was in need of her help. He wouldn't put it past his father to have chipped them in some way and for Grace to be able to read their chips even from afar - always knowing if her children were okay. He wondered if Reginald would ever intervene if Grace would come to him and tell him that Klaus’ was doing bad.

Maybe he should stop reading those sci-fi books in Ben’s room. 

Still, he hurried to get out of the car and to get Klaus out too. When he finally managed to scoop his brother up again, Klaus had yet to open his eyes or respond in any way to him. He carried him up towards their mother and Grace ushered him inside with a worried look on her face. 

"Take him to the infirmary. I shall have a closer look at him."

He complied without a second thought as he hurried through the hall and quickly towards the infirmary upstairs. Many memories clung to this room, most of them a bit unpleasant, of course. He could still hear Vanya cry over a scraped knee while Grace had cleaned the wound and applied a band-aid with a kind smile. He could still see Diego sitting rigid and looked elsewhere when his mother had given them their vaccines. There were so many memories woven into the fabric of this very room that it was sometimes hard to breathe in here. Klaus’ broken jaw, Diego’s broken arm, the deep cut on Diego’s head that needed stitching, Ben’s cold, dead body.

He put Klaus on the bed in the center of the room and started stripping him off the sweater and scarf he had put onto him just minutes ago. Grace arrived just in time as he was done with that. "Luther, would you be a dear and take off his shirt too? I need to get a proper look." She smiled and Luther complied again as quickly as he could, leaving Klaus only in his pants. In the harsh light of the infirmary, he looked even worse. His skin was deathly pale where it was not littered in bruises and cuts, or covered in blood and dirt. 

He watched how his mother examined him carefully. "No inner bleeding, that's good" She sighed. "But he got two broken ribs and a nasty wound on his head that needs stitching. But first, we’ve gotta clean him up a little." 

It was tedious work but Luther helped her as much as he could clean up the blood and dirt from Klaus’ face and hands. When they were done, the water they used was nearly black but at least now the bruises on Klaus were on full display. They even managed to wash the dirt out of Klaus’ hair. Luther had only watched how his mother had done it with such gentleness while Klaus was not even aware of what was happening. He found himself sitting by his brother’s side while Grace was stitching him up and applying bandages to him, watched how she attached a needle to his arm to give him the fluids he was so desperately lacking. If he had gone out sooner to find him, maybe Klaus wouldn't have needed to go through this shit. He should have just trusted Diego’s gut instinct and yet he had instead listened to his father. 

"He should be waking up soon" Grace smiled at him as she put the supplies she had used away again. "I’m gonna make you boys cocoa." 

He watched her go with a hum on her lips and a swing to her hips as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. In her programming, perhaps, this wasn't out of the ordinary. Luther, however, felt like the biggest idiot. He should have gone against what his father had said much sooner. And he couldn't get the thought out of his mind that, if he had come across this traffic light just a minute later, he would have driven past that alley, past Klaus, without realizing it. His brother would have ended up in that dumpster and he would have died in there. Maybe he would never have been found then. Maybe he would have stayed there and at some point, the garbage truck would have collected him and no one would have ever realized it.

He felt like vomiting. 

Ten minutes after Grace had left the brothers, Klaus started to stir. He put a comforting hand on Klaus’ left hand to show him that someone was there. That, however, only seemed to startle his brother. His eyes snapped open at once at his touch and his gaze darted around in sudden panic. He wasn’t even sure that Klaus recognized where he was at first.

"It's me" Luther immediately addressed his brother, again trying to get his attention. "Luther! You're home, you're safe!"

Again, it seemed to have been the wrong thing to say as Klaus immediately tried to sit up and get off the bed only to cry out in pain from his broken ribs and sink back down on his bed. His eyes found the needle in his arm and he started to panic again. 

"No, no, no!" He suddenly muttered, his trembling fingers moving to remove the needle only for Luther to stop him. He was shaking like a leave during a hurricane under his fingers.

"Klaus … Hey … Calm down. Everything is fine! Mom just gave you fluids because you were dehydrated." That seemed to calm him down just enough for Klaus to actually take a breath. "Dad’s not here either" He didn't know why he said it. However, he knew that Klaus would have never gone back to this house willingly if their father would be here. "It's only us. I found you in that alley, those assholes attacked you." 

Klaus groaned quietly and visibly deflated on the bed. "Fuck…" He whispered, his voice hoarse and scratchy. "Fuck … Yeah, that hurt like a bitch…"

"What happened?" He asked quietly and noticed how much he was fidgeting with his hands. He didn't know where to put them. He wanted to grab his brother’s hand but he didn't want to startle him again. After a moment, he finally did grab Klaus’ hand, and, this time, he didn't startle or pull away. "Why did they attack you?"

"There was no reason." Klaus then whispered. 

"What?"

"I was just a random homeless guy and they were drunk and high."

"What?"

"Luther…" He sounded exasperated and exhausted as he breathed out his name. "That's what happens sometimes. Assholes who attack random homeless guys just for the fun of it. Although … I think they stole my shoes … and my jacket." 

" I should have gone after them and ripped them apart." He groaned. Just the thought of it made him sick to his stomach. Those guys had attacked his little brother for nothing! They had been bored and high and they had found a homeless guy out there and decided to let out their frustrations on him? Was that it? Was it really this simple? How many times had something like this happened to his brother before? How many times was something like this happening to other homeless people out there every day? To kick someone who was already down, to steal from someone who had nothing … It was wrong. Those people were the worst of the worst in his eyes.

"No, please don't" Klaus sighed but there was a faint little smirk playing on his lips. "I would need to see them every goddamn time I meet you then."

"What?" The ghosts. Oh, right. "You mean-"

"You and the others have accumulated quite the entourage over the years," Klaus muttered quietly. "I mean … Ben had the most of them around him but … Yeah, please no more killings, okay?"

"But you can't see ghosts when you’re high." He knew that he was insensitive right when he said it and yet the words still left his mouth. And Klaus, good old Klaus, was always forgiving, never held a grudge, never called him out on his bullshit.

Klaus gave a little hum in response. He then quietly extracted his hand from Luther’s paw and shoved it into the pocket of his pants. His fingers came back holding a metal chip like a coin that he held towards Luther.

"What's this?" He asked taking the coin and holding it up at eye level to inspect it. It was stamped with the logo of a rehab facility right out of town on one side and, on the other side, with a number. "90 days?" He gasped as he trailed his thumb over the engraved number. "Klaus that's- Wow … 90 days … I’m proud of you. But … how? I mean … when?" 

"I checked myself into a facility a bit over three months ago." He muttered quietly. "I sold the drugs I still had, pawned what I had stolen, and bought my way into a good facility. Well, maybe it was the name ‘Hargreeves’ that opened that door for me … Who knows." 

"You checked yourself in?" He didn't want to sound so surprised and gobsmacked hearing something like this come out of Klaus’ mouth. 

"Yeah…" 

"But what were you doing outside then?"

"You know that you don't magically become less homeless just because you managed to get clean, right?" Klaus chuckled even though there was nothing funny at all about that statement. There was nothing funny about his brother, his little brother, being homeless.

"You could have come here … or go to Diego…" 

"Last time I’ve seen Diego … We had a huge fight." Klaus shrugged. He looked, however, torn as he remembered that event. "He doesn't know that I went into rehab." 

"Why didn't you tell him?"

Klaus let out a deep sigh. "I … He saw this so often, you know? He would check me into a facility after he picked me up from the hospital after an overdose and he would look at me with those big eyes, telling me that he was proud of me and that he believed in me. He would spend all his money on my rehab program. I would do the mandatory 30 days and then I would get out and go right back to my dealer." 

He paused for a moment and Luther could see the shame and guilt clearly in his eyes that Klaus used to numb with drugs and alcohol in the past. Now he allowed those feelings to take a hold on him. He allowed himself to actually feel those things. And Luther … Well, he felt even more terrible now, knowing that his brother Diego had worked his ass off to get Klaus into rehab, again and again, never losing hope that Klaus might finally get it and stick to his sobriety. Meanwhile, Luther had been sitting in this huge mansion with all the luxuries he could ever want, never to worry about food or warmth or comfort. 

He was a terrible brother.

"I … When I made the decision … I  _ wanted  _ it." Klaus continued quietly. "I really did. But I  _ know  _ me, Luther … I’m a mess and I am weak and I … I thought, if I wouldn't tell him, he wouldn't be hurt again. I’d much rather wanted to show up in a year or so, being sober and having my life in order and giving him an actual reason to be proud of me. I’m so used to seeing everyone being disappointed in me all the time… I wanted it to be different this time." 

Luther let out a deep sigh and dragged a hand down his face. "You achieved that" He then chuckled. "Wow … I ... honestly, I…"

"Never thought you’d see the day?"

"No" Klaus actually chuckled at his honesty.

"Me neither."

Luther allowed a few moments of comfortable silence to wash over them before he addressed his brother again: "Hey, Mom’s making us hot chocolate"

"Yaaay" Klaus actually clapped his hands as he used to when they were children. "But I have one more question, brother dearest. Why were you out there in the first place? How did you find me?"

"It was Diego" Luther then replied quietly. "He called me and asked me to have an eye on you. He’s out of town for a little while because of a job. He was worried because of the temperatures."

"Ah, Diego" Klaus sighed. "Good old mother hen Diego, always worrying his butt off about silly old me."

"Be glad he does because otherwise I would have never found you tonight and then you would be dead in a dumpster." 

"Yeah, that would have been quite the buzzkill, I agree." Slowly, Klaus tried to get up and regretted the movement immediately as he winced in pain and sunk back on the bed.

"Here, let me help you." Carefully, he helped Klaus to sit up and then swing his legs over the edge. "Oh, wait!" He quickly grabbed the knitted sweater that he had put onto Klaus before to help him put it on again. "You must be freezing." 

"Jesus … I’m not used to this much care and support, it's giving me whiplash, big guy…" 

The words stung a little more than Luther would expect but he knew that Klaus was right and had a point. He had not shown him that he cared all these years. None of them had with the exception of Diego. He deserved this comment. 

Instead of going downstairs into the kitchen, they made themselves comfortable in Luther’s room. He had gone downstairs getting the hot chocolate for both him and Klaus and when he came back to the room, Klaus was resting against the headboard of his bed, propped up against Luther’s pillows. He looked tired and his wounds just looked horrible in stark contrast to his pale skin. Luther paused for a second. He could not remember a time when Klaus had hung around in his room before. It was a bit odd.

"You are still making model airplanes?" It didn't sound like a quip even though he was giving him a lopsided smile.

"Yeah" He chuckled and walked over to the bed where he sat down slowly before handing Klaus his mug. Mom had really outdone herself, adding whipped cream and marshmallows. As children, they had barely been allowed any sweets but she had just said that Klaus could need some extra pounds and left it at that. "Well, I try at least. Lately, I have a hard time focusing." He pointed at his desk where his newest plane was resting, still only half-finished. "I’ve been working on this one for months now. I need to paint parts of it too but I can't sit still, don't have enough patience and I never had the steadiest hands."

"Yeah, I know" Klaus chuckled. "I could help you" As he just looked at Klaus in surprise his brother rolled his eyes. "Don't look at me like that, I always enjoyed painting." 

"And you have always been good at it too" Luther replied quietly. They shared a smile at that and as they sat there and drank their cocoa, Luther tried to remember the last time that he had spent time like this with Klaus. He couldn't remember. Had he ever sat with Klaus and just enjoyed his brother’s company? Klaus had always been attached to Diego and he had spent most of his time with Allison. 

What did he really know about Klaus anyway?

His brother Klaus could see ghosts. His brother Klaus could conjure the dead and speak to them. His brother Klaus was a drug-addict - _ a former drug-addict now _ . His brother Klaus was homeless. What he also knew about Klaus, however, was that he was the person who always made the rest of them laugh when they felt the most miserable. His brother Klaus was also the one person who always took the blame for the shit  _ they  _ had done. 

He remembered that one time he had messed up during a mission and almost got a hostage killed and how Klaus had later told their father that it had been his mistake. Klaus had always known how important it was for Luther to be on good terms with their father. He remembered how Klaus had later told him  _ ‘I am the least favorite child anyway’  _ and had left it at that. Back then, he had had no idea how to respond to that or what to think of that. He had brushed it off as Klaus being Klaus but now as an adult, he could look at it differently. 

"What's wrong?" Klaus suddenly asked, ever the perceptive little brother. "You look like you have a stroke or something. If you do, blink twice but I’m afraid I can’t help you. I can yell real loud though, wanna hear?"

He was already taking a deep breath as Luther interrupted him with a little laugh. "No! No, no! It's just that I thought about … I never thanked you"

"Thanked me?" He sounded almost scandalized.

"For sticking your neck out for me when we were little." 

"I’m afraid that I can’t follow" Klaus huffed and emptied his mug. He looked ready to pass out. 

"It's just … I remembered … So often when one of us would get in trouble, you would take the blame, act as if it had been your fault when something went wrong … None of us ever thanked you."

"You are not getting all sentimental on me now, are you?" 

He laughed and nudged Klaus’ knee - the only part he could touch without actually hurting him, it seemed. Klaus chuckled at the friendly little banter. The feeling in his chest was warm as they shared this moment. As a child, he had never quite realized just how easy it was to be around Klaus, even without talking at all. The quiet never felt awkward or loud with Klaus. 

"I’m serious though … I was a shitty brother to you." Luther then confessed quietly. "I was … I really was. I always pushed you aside, disregarded you, and your behavior. I thought that you did the things you did just for attention and I didn't realize that  _ we all  _ did the things we did for attention. We were desperate for any form of attention that we could get from dad and I … start to realize that we will never get it - not in the way we might want it. I start to realize that … everything we did as kids … It was all useless, wasn’t it? Me staying here … desperate for dad’s praise … It was all futile, wasn’t it?"

Suddenly, Klaus put a hand on his hand and squeezed for just a second. "Luther" His voice was soft as he spoke to him and his eyes warm as he looked at him. "Luther … hey … chin up, big guy" He smiled. "Dad’s … Dad’s an asshole, yes, but … Hey … What you did wasn’t useless, huh? You saved people … you were a real superhero, while I just stood by and wasted my time being the funny sidekick or the shitty lookout. I never did anything of real value during these missions - You, on the other hand … that was different. You did good, Luther … And you have still time to leave this house and start your own life, right? It's not all lost."

Even now when he felt so shitty and was so hurt and exhausted, Klaus still tried to cheer him up. He still tried to make Luther feel better about himself. How did he deserve a brother like this? He leaned forward to hug him but he needed to be careful not to hurt Klaus as he did. Everything seemed so easy to hurt him now. He seemed so frail - compared to Luther, at least. 

"Hey" Klaus muttered as Luther let go of him again. "what was that for?"

"Just" He shrugged. "To say thank you."

※※※※※※※

They sat in the kitchen at the table when noon rolled around the next day. Klaus had said that they would be able to work better and have more space downstairs in the big kitchen. The table was full of Luther’s supplies and part of an unfinished model airplane. While Klaus was painting the parts with great care and a level of concentration that Luther had never seen before on his brother’s face, Luther was carefully putting the plane together. The kitchen radio quietly played music and he heard Grace hum somewhere else in the house. It was peaceful and Luther, for the first time in an eternity, felt content. 

His inner peace was shattered, however, as the phone rang. "I’m going," Luther said to Klaus who absentmindedly nodded and continued his paint job. Luther quickly left the table and hurried outside and down the hall to the phone. As he picked up, he was greeted with the familiar voice of Number Two grunting into the receiver. 

"About time! You’re getting slow. Are you slacking off? Getting fat, aren’t we?"

"Diego" He sighed. "Hello"

"So, did you find him?" Of course, Diego wouldn't waste time with mere greetings or polite pleasantries. They were siblings, yes, but Diego and he would never have a normal sibling relationship. Maybe that was their normal.

"I did" Luther sighed. He was weighing the pros and cons of telling Diego about how he found Klaus in his head. He had done so ever since Klaus had been lying in the infirmary because he had known the call would come. In the end, Luther decided, that Diego didn't need to know. Not right now. He was working and he needed the money, otherwise, he wouldn't have left town. If he would tell him about the circumstances of how he had found Klaus, Diego would come back in a heartbeat demanding to see Klaus and dropping everything else. "He’s in the kitchen right now. Luckily, Dad isn't here and doesn't come back before the new year so … Klaus can stay until then at least."

"Good, good…"

"Do you want to talk to him?"

"No" Diego replied and Luther thought about what Klaus had told him. They had had a fight last time they met and yet, Diego was worried. As children, Two and Four had never really fought. They had had their banter and little squabbles, but in the end, they had always ended up back together, thick as thieves and causing havoc. "It's okay. I’m coming over to see him when I return in a few days."

"Yeah, okay" Luther hummed. 

"Okay then … I better get going now-"

"Hey, Diego?" He stopped Number Two from hanging up quickly. The thought had just formed in his head and he knew that he needed to get it out before Diego could hang up on him. Seeing Klaus like this last night had changed his perspective. He knew that he still had a long way ahead of him but he was taking baby steps forward now. 

"Yes?"

"When you return home, you should come over for Thanksgiving - we have to celebrate something."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, Klaus is 90 days sober." 

"What?"

"He just comes out of rehab, actually."

There was silence on the other end, then, a breathy chuckle. "So, that's where he went!" Diego sighed and he could hear the deep relief in his brother’s voice. "I was worried sick and meanwhile he was getting clean! Sure, I’ll come. Just … Just take care of him for me, okay? Make sure he-"

_ Make sure he doesn't relapse.  _ "Don't worry" Luther replied. "I’ll look after him." 


End file.
